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And now I’m going to go see him, in the flesh. After what happened.
I can still feel the hard shape of him in my hand. The way he tensed underneath me, every muscle rigid. The way he shuddered and moaned, as if my hand stroking his cock was the most exquisite thing he’d ever felt. As if he’d been imagining that moment, again and again.
It made me desperate to know what he would sound like, what he would do if I put my mouth on him. If I fucked him. It made me want him so much more.
And then he had made it clear, all over again, how impossible that is.
We’re at an impasse. He won’t fuck me for money, or fuck me while I work for him, and I have no other way to keep my life from falling apart. I need the money, and so long as things remain as they are, Lorenzo feels that he shouldn’t touch me.
An honorable mafia underboss. The irony of it makes me laugh, as I gather up my clothes and go to shower.
I know I shouldn’t dress for him. There’s nothing good that can come of it, except the possibility of more humiliation, more rejection, more complications. But I don’t want to go see him in leggings and an old T-shirt. I want him to think I’m beautiful. I want him to want as much as I do, even if it hurts.
A small, resentful part of me wants him to hurt. After all, this is his mess. The result of a situation he created, when he killed Alfio.
The dress I picked is a knee-length, floaty floral sundress, a yellow chiffon with bright flowers strewn across it. The straps are fragile and thin, the neckline a v that cuts down low enough to hint at the almost non-existent cleavage that I have without a bra. I add a pair of espadrilles, small gold hoop earrings, and just a touch of makeup, leaving my hair down. The money from selling the pills is in my jewelry box, and I tuck it into my purse, walking down the hall to find Darcy already in the kitchen. I asked her to come over early this morning, since I knew I’d have to leave before breakfast to go and see Lorenzo.
I can’t tell Darcy exactly what I’m up to, but so far, she hasn’t asked too many questions. I’m grateful for it, even if her trust adds to the guilt. I can only imagine what she’d say if she knew the type of work I’m doing for Lorenzo.
Currently, she’s shaking cereal into a bowl for Niki. I hurry past her, grabbing a banana muffin from the countertop. “Thanks for this.” I hold up the muffin, and Darcy flashes me a smile.
“It’s no trouble. I baked too many. Where are you off to?” She looks at my outfit with a mixture of concern and curiosity, and I know what she’s thinking. She’s worried that there’s another Alfio, demanding my attention early on a Tuesday.
She’d be both wrong and right, all at once.
“A ballet meeting. Sponsors.” The lie slips off my tongue, adding to the weight of my guilt. “And then I have practice. I won’t be home until late.”
“I’m off today, so that’s perfectly alright. Niki and I will catch up on the Marvel movies we haven’t watched.” Darcy gestures to her laptop, where she usually streams the movies for Niki that I can’t afford to have the services for.
Although, based on what I’m taking to Lorenzo today, that might change. I have to give Jewel a cut of this payout, but only this one. Next time, I’ll net even more.
It’s terrifying and hopeful, all at once. And I have to be careful, because the loss of Alfio taught me one important lesson.
There’s no telling how long this will last. I have to make as much as I can, and save just as much, while we have it.
“He’ll love that.” I walk over and ruffle Niki’s hair, dropping a quick kiss on top of his head, and smile gratefully at Darcy. “Thank you so much.”
“It’s no problem. Go on. You don’t want to be late.”
I try not to feel the weight of the guilt on my shoulders, but it’s hard. Darcy is spending her day off babysitting for me. Even though I know she genuinely loves being around Niki—she’s an only child who wishes she had siblings—the fact that I’m lying to her on top of it makes me feel awful. But what would I even say?
I offered another mafia boss sex for money, and he turned me down. So now I’m selling drugs for him. It’s fine.
She would definitely not agree that it’s fine.
The bus ride to the part of town where Lorenzo’s office is located is hot, and leaves me feeling faintly sticky. I lift my hair off of my neck as I walk to his office building, wishing for a breeze, and I feel a little wilted as I step inside. I’m grateful for the air conditioning, so I linger in the lobby for a moment, dreading the elevator ride up to his office.
With every floor on the way up, my anticipation and my nerves grow. I swallow hard as the buttons light up, nearing his floor, and when the elevator rings and the doors open, my stomach dips with a nervous swoop that makes me feel faintly dizzy.
I grip my purse, step out into the hall, and walk to his office. I stop in front of the doors and knock, firmly. I don’t want him to realize how anxious I am.
“Come in.” His voice is low and deep, and I try not to remember how the last time I heard it, he was saying my name. How I know, now, what he sounds like when he moans. When he comes.
I open the door, trying to ignore how my heart flutters in my chest. When I step inside, closing it behind me, I see Lorenzo’s gaze sweep over me just once, almost as if he can’t help himself. And then his gaze settles on my face, cool and blank, as if that night at the club never happened.
I stiffen, tipping my chin up. I can play this game, too, I tell myself, as I walk toward his desk. I can pretend that none of it mattered, that his rejection didn’t hurt. That his offer didn’t hurt too, in a different way.
I sincerely don’t think he meant to be cruel. But the idea that he would see so clearly what I needed—a way out that wouldn’t require me to debase myself or risk being thrown in jail and losing my little brother forever—and dangle it in front of me in a way that I can’t possibly accept…it felt cruel. Even if it was unintentional.
